Howdy Ags!
Last night was Muster night here in Baghdad, and let me tell you, it was an amazing experience. Muster ceremonies in Iraq are usually small affairs of just two or three people – when they happen at all. It’s sometimes hard to find other Ags around, and when you do, getting an organized function together is next to impossible.
Nonetheless, that’s exactly what a group of determined Aggies accomplished. Last night, a group of about 20 Ags got together for what we think is probably the largest muster ceremony ever held in Iraq.
I was hoping that there would be a Muster on my base here, but unfortunately no such luck. Nonetheless, after digging around, I found out about a group organizing a muster at the U.S. Embassy. The problem is, the Embassy is 10 miles away, on a road winding through the heart of Baghdad.
So, after getting permission from my commanding officer to get some time off work, I put on my body armor and hopped onto the old armored Bus and headed to the green zone. The trip was a bit nerve-wracking, but in the end passed without incident (both ways). I spent the rest of the afternoon getting a tent to sleep in and doing a couple of errands around the IZ.
I was a bit late for Muster, but most of us were. At 6 p.m., I was waiting by the pool – yes, the folks in the International Zone live right – when the alarms went off. They’d gone off an hour before and it was a false alarm, but you never take chances. So we ran to the bunker and quickly got under cover. Sure enough, a few seconds later, we heard a loud boom off in the distance. It was indeed some kind of indirect fire, but it apparently missed the IZ and landed in a civilian area. After they gave us the all clear, I grabbed dinner and went to the room where Muster was being held. Most of the other people had been delayed the same as me, and when everybody eventually showed up, there were about 20 of us.
Most of the folks were Army, and there were a couple of Navy folks like me as well. There were three civilians, including two who worked at the Embassy. One of them wasn’t an Aggie, but was an Aggie Mom attending her first Muster. Most of them had been in the Corps, but there were two of us – myself included – who had been non-regs who had joined up after 9/11, or in the case of another of us, after Somalia.
We’d taken over a conference room and there was a laptop hooked up to a slide projector at the head of the room, displaying slides of life at A&M through the years: The Corps forming a line on Simpson Drill Field in the 1940s. The Band doing a Block T. Lawrence Sullivan Ross. A photo of Bonfire in 1955, with the old teepee shape. One of bonfire in a more modern era, like the ones I worked on. Corps march-in. Elephant Walk. The Ross Volunteers. An old photo of Kyle Field.
As we took our seats around the table, we silently watched these photos while eating dinner. A couple of Army guys started talking. One mentioned the Corps company he had been in. Another guy across the room gave a short Whoop! As the photo of the Corregidor Muster came up on the screen, one of the older guys mentioned that his father-in-law was in that picture. And here he was, in Baghdad.
Finally, the ceremony got underway, and we all went around the room and did introductions. One Navy Captain (0-6 for you non-Navy folks), said that he remembered his time fondly. “I majored in the Dixie Chicken and Dudley’s Draw.”
“And you probably graduated with honors,” another officer threw in.
An Army Major got up and gave the history of Muster, recalling the original celebration of the glorious Texian victory at the Battle of San Jacinto in 1836. How that evolved into the Muster we know today. How the 1942 Muster on the embattled Island of Corregidor had forever imbued the Muster tradition with a more sacred, higher meaning. It was the same story I’d heard before in musters in College Station, Uvalde, Oyster Creek, Dallas and in the Texas House of Representatives Chamber in Austin. Thinking about all those musters I had attended reminded me of how enduring and widespread this tradition has become.
Finally, Col. George Brinnegar, ’82, the organizer of the event, got up and gave the keynote address.
“I’d like to welcome you to the 2008 Aggie Muster in Baghdad,” he said. “The fact that we’re doing this means a lot to Aggies all over the world, and I know that they’re with us now.”
He talked a while about his time at A&M, and the lessons he learned from the old sages in the Ag department. And then he talked about the subject that was on all of our minds, but which had hardly been brought up: the war.
“This year, 2008, is no different than 1942,” he said, recalling the men on Corregidor. “And Aggies again are the tip of the spear. We are at war, and it is a war with serious consequences for the world. Tonight, Aggies are gathered here, as well as in Afghanistan, Korea, Kosovo, the Horn of Africa, and of course, in College Station.
“We are the Aggie Spirit, whether we are in College Station or in the Green Zone. It lives and dies with us. That is why we’re here tonight, because there is something bigger and more important than us.”
With that, we calmly stood and held our candles before us. The list of names we read was not just those of fallen Aggies from the past year, but we also read the names of all Aggies who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan in the last few years. There were dozens of them. As their names were called out, we all realized the cost, and how these brave men and women, our brothers in arms, had sacrificed everything for their America, for Texas and their way of life. The way of life that we were celebrating tonight.
I called out “here” whenever they came to a 1st Lieutenant, since that’s my rank. Ditto to the 2nd Lieutenants as well. As the names were read out, they were a cross section of Aggieland. Old and young. Male and female. Enlisted guys who probably had held dreams of returning to finish a degree, and officers who had put their bright futures as graduates on hold in order to serve their country.
When all the names were read, and all the candles were lit, we stood at attention as Silver Taps was played on the laptop computer at the front of the room. In quiet, subdued notes, we sang “The Spirit of Aggieland.”
Muster, indeed, is so meaningful because we all know that someday Muster will be called for us as well. Maybe not soon, but someday. Whether we succeed in life, or whether we fail. It’s all the same, and Muster will be called for us. If we serve, it will be called for us. If we don’t, it will be called just the same. For the oldest, whose years at Aggieland are just a distant, but happy memory, it will be called. For the youngest, claimed perhaps in a tragic accident which cut their lives short, it will be called. In war and in peace. It will be called for us all, the greatest and the least.
That’s what muster is all about.
Gig’ em.
--------------------------------
http://www.aalan94.blogspot.com/
Last night was Muster night here in Baghdad, and let me tell you, it was an amazing experience. Muster ceremonies in Iraq are usually small affairs of just two or three people – when they happen at all. It’s sometimes hard to find other Ags around, and when you do, getting an organized function together is next to impossible.
Nonetheless, that’s exactly what a group of determined Aggies accomplished. Last night, a group of about 20 Ags got together for what we think is probably the largest muster ceremony ever held in Iraq.
I was hoping that there would be a Muster on my base here, but unfortunately no such luck. Nonetheless, after digging around, I found out about a group organizing a muster at the U.S. Embassy. The problem is, the Embassy is 10 miles away, on a road winding through the heart of Baghdad.
So, after getting permission from my commanding officer to get some time off work, I put on my body armor and hopped onto the old armored Bus and headed to the green zone. The trip was a bit nerve-wracking, but in the end passed without incident (both ways). I spent the rest of the afternoon getting a tent to sleep in and doing a couple of errands around the IZ.
I was a bit late for Muster, but most of us were. At 6 p.m., I was waiting by the pool – yes, the folks in the International Zone live right – when the alarms went off. They’d gone off an hour before and it was a false alarm, but you never take chances. So we ran to the bunker and quickly got under cover. Sure enough, a few seconds later, we heard a loud boom off in the distance. It was indeed some kind of indirect fire, but it apparently missed the IZ and landed in a civilian area. After they gave us the all clear, I grabbed dinner and went to the room where Muster was being held. Most of the other people had been delayed the same as me, and when everybody eventually showed up, there were about 20 of us.
Most of the folks were Army, and there were a couple of Navy folks like me as well. There were three civilians, including two who worked at the Embassy. One of them wasn’t an Aggie, but was an Aggie Mom attending her first Muster. Most of them had been in the Corps, but there were two of us – myself included – who had been non-regs who had joined up after 9/11, or in the case of another of us, after Somalia.
We’d taken over a conference room and there was a laptop hooked up to a slide projector at the head of the room, displaying slides of life at A&M through the years: The Corps forming a line on Simpson Drill Field in the 1940s. The Band doing a Block T. Lawrence Sullivan Ross. A photo of Bonfire in 1955, with the old teepee shape. One of bonfire in a more modern era, like the ones I worked on. Corps march-in. Elephant Walk. The Ross Volunteers. An old photo of Kyle Field.
As we took our seats around the table, we silently watched these photos while eating dinner. A couple of Army guys started talking. One mentioned the Corps company he had been in. Another guy across the room gave a short Whoop! As the photo of the Corregidor Muster came up on the screen, one of the older guys mentioned that his father-in-law was in that picture. And here he was, in Baghdad.
Finally, the ceremony got underway, and we all went around the room and did introductions. One Navy Captain (0-6 for you non-Navy folks), said that he remembered his time fondly. “I majored in the Dixie Chicken and Dudley’s Draw.”
“And you probably graduated with honors,” another officer threw in.
An Army Major got up and gave the history of Muster, recalling the original celebration of the glorious Texian victory at the Battle of San Jacinto in 1836. How that evolved into the Muster we know today. How the 1942 Muster on the embattled Island of Corregidor had forever imbued the Muster tradition with a more sacred, higher meaning. It was the same story I’d heard before in musters in College Station, Uvalde, Oyster Creek, Dallas and in the Texas House of Representatives Chamber in Austin. Thinking about all those musters I had attended reminded me of how enduring and widespread this tradition has become.
Finally, Col. George Brinnegar, ’82, the organizer of the event, got up and gave the keynote address.
“I’d like to welcome you to the 2008 Aggie Muster in Baghdad,” he said. “The fact that we’re doing this means a lot to Aggies all over the world, and I know that they’re with us now.”
He talked a while about his time at A&M, and the lessons he learned from the old sages in the Ag department. And then he talked about the subject that was on all of our minds, but which had hardly been brought up: the war.
“This year, 2008, is no different than 1942,” he said, recalling the men on Corregidor. “And Aggies again are the tip of the spear. We are at war, and it is a war with serious consequences for the world. Tonight, Aggies are gathered here, as well as in Afghanistan, Korea, Kosovo, the Horn of Africa, and of course, in College Station.
“We are the Aggie Spirit, whether we are in College Station or in the Green Zone. It lives and dies with us. That is why we’re here tonight, because there is something bigger and more important than us.”
With that, we calmly stood and held our candles before us. The list of names we read was not just those of fallen Aggies from the past year, but we also read the names of all Aggies who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan in the last few years. There were dozens of them. As their names were called out, we all realized the cost, and how these brave men and women, our brothers in arms, had sacrificed everything for their America, for Texas and their way of life. The way of life that we were celebrating tonight.
I called out “here” whenever they came to a 1st Lieutenant, since that’s my rank. Ditto to the 2nd Lieutenants as well. As the names were read out, they were a cross section of Aggieland. Old and young. Male and female. Enlisted guys who probably had held dreams of returning to finish a degree, and officers who had put their bright futures as graduates on hold in order to serve their country.
When all the names were read, and all the candles were lit, we stood at attention as Silver Taps was played on the laptop computer at the front of the room. In quiet, subdued notes, we sang “The Spirit of Aggieland.”
Muster, indeed, is so meaningful because we all know that someday Muster will be called for us as well. Maybe not soon, but someday. Whether we succeed in life, or whether we fail. It’s all the same, and Muster will be called for us. If we serve, it will be called for us. If we don’t, it will be called just the same. For the oldest, whose years at Aggieland are just a distant, but happy memory, it will be called. For the youngest, claimed perhaps in a tragic accident which cut their lives short, it will be called. In war and in peace. It will be called for us all, the greatest and the least.
That’s what muster is all about.
Gig’ em.
--------------------------------
http://www.aalan94.blogspot.com/
